College Days
by ScaryScarecrows
Summary: A collection of one-shots taking place during Jonathan Crane's college days.
1. Drive

AN: This is marked as 'complete' simply because all of these stories can be read on their own. The opener. 'Drive' is inspired by and set to the Incubus song of the same name. Thought it was fitting. This will be updated at random because life is about to get hectic.

-Scary

He's never been this far away from home. That's the only reason he picked Gotham-it's on the other side of the country. The more space between him and that _bitch_, dead or not, the better.

Trees and dirt fly past the window. Sometimes branches scrape the car as if to hold him back. He presses the gas pedal down a little further. The speedometer's broken. He doesn't care. Anything to get the hell out of Georgia. He won't be back, not if someone throws a rope around his neck and drags him.

Crows sit on a rotting scarecrow, glaring at him. He flips them off and adjusts his grip on the wheel. Little fuckers. They can't touch him now. He almost hopes they dive-bomb the car, just so he can watch them splatter against the windows. They don't give him the satisfaction.

College. He'd never really entertained the idea. Granny would never have let him leave. She'd have killed him first. Who's laughing now?

It's raining. When did it start to rain? Should he care? The windshield wipers work.

Good-bye, Georgia. Good-bye, Bo Griggs and Mark Sanchez and Mr. Hollister. And good-bye, Granny. Especially Granny. Despite her best efforts, he's free. And he's not going back.

A sign pops up: _You are now leaving Georgia! Come back soon!_

No.

He leans back in the seat and watches the trees fly by.

Good-bye, Georgia.


	2. Drunk

AN: Doctor Crane might be a wine fan, but I can't see him liking beer or anything. And yes, we lightweights can get rather drunk after enough wine coolers. Just trust me on that one.

"This is the sweetest kind they have, I promise. It's good."

"I hate alcohol."

"You haven't had anything good yet. Come on, just a sip of mine. You can't even get drunk off of this."

Fine. He'll do it. But he won't like it.

He reaches over and takes a tiny sip. Kitty rolls her eyes and motions for him to take a bigger one. He does. It tastes like limeade. He likes limeade.

"It's okay."

"I told you."

He takes another sip and deems it not bad. She said he couldn't get drunk…maybe one bottle won't hurt. Just one. It _is_ winter break, after all.

Why is everything moving? He tried to go from the couch to the TV-five measly steps!-and it turned into seven. He needs another limeade. Scarecrow is laughing at him. That bastard.

Actually, this is pretty funny. Maybe Scarecrow is right to laugh.

Limeade, limeade…they have no more limeade. Fine. Lemonade.

Pain. Blinding, horrible pain that makes him want to puke. What happened last night?

"Jonathan?"

No.

"My god." What's going on? "I thought I'd never see the day."

"What?"

Ow.

"How can you have a hangover from wine coolers?"


	3. Late Night

AN: As a college student, let me say that night classes have their good bits. Mainly the lack of partying idiots that have to text all the time and try to copy your homework.

Why did he sign up for a late night class? What possessed him to do that in a place like Gotham? Now he has to walk to The Alleged Car, which is all the way across the parking lot. He'll never make this mistake again.

**_Can't you walk a little faster?_**

_Oh, so you're scared!_

**_If you get jumped, I have to deal with the injuries. So go._**

He grips his keys tightly in his right hand and wishes he had mace or something. It feels like he's got a neon sign saying 'mug me!' strapped to his back.

There! There's The Alleged Car. Hopefully it won't pick tonight to die. It's been making a rattling noise for a while, but it's either the rent or the car and Gotham isn't the best place to be homeless.

He feels a little better when he's inside and it starts. He'll never make the mistake of taking a late class again.

Ever.


	4. The Alleged Car

The truck died last week. Jonathan isn't very sorry. It was too redneck for his liking, but it had been cheap and had good gas millage.

They have to get a new car, unfortunately. Grocery shopping is a pain when you have to take the bus, and it's too cold to bike or walk.

They're broke. Kitty works as a Wal-Mart greeter and he found a job at the local supermarket. It's money, and he can't complain, but sometimes he wishes he could set the place on fire. Old people especially irritate him.

The car they get is black, ancient, and in terrible condition. But it runs well-considering-and it's cheap. More importantly, it's not stick. Thank you, Jesus.

They're driving home when it makes a sudden squeal.

"We should name it Christine."

"We are not naming the car Christine."

"That wasn't a car sound!"

She gives him The Look and he drops the subject. Fine. They won't name it Christine. But this thing is not a car. Cars don't make that kind of noise.

He is proven right when he looks out the window later and sees it sitting in the parking lot, glaring at him. No. That's not a car. It just wants him to think so. He points at it, just so it knows he's onto it, just as Kitty walks in.

"What are you doing?"

"That car is not a car."

"It's just old!"

"It's not a car! It's possessed or something!"

She shuts the drapes and tugs him towards the bed. Fine. When it kills her, he'll visit her grave and say 'I told you so'. Right before she pops up as a zombie or something, probably.

"You are being ridiculous."

"But…"

"It's just a car."

"An alleged car."

She lets the subject go after that.

AN: Christine, for those of you who don't know, is a Stephen King story about an evil car named...Christine. The Alleged Car will probably return at least once more. I think I like it.


	5. In Which The Alleged Car Breaks Down

Lupin fan1-Oh, good! I'm always worried about stuff like that. Half the time people just go, 'huh?' and stare at you with their mouths hanging open. Sometimes they even drool a little.

Voodoo-Mutant-Child-Haha, that's good. I have no clue how long they will last, but that's half the fun.

AN: It's baack! OH. The song on the radio is Alice in Chains' 'Them Bones'. Ouch.

Jonathan doesn't like this car. He doesn't know _why_, exactly. Maybe it belonged to a serial killer. Fear is good. Serial killers are bad. He doesn't want a serial killer's car. What if there's still bloodstains in it or something?

Whether or not he likes it, it runs fine and he's stuck with it. And since his job is the farther one, he has to drive it more. God, why?

**_It's not the end of the world._**

_You wanted to name it Satan._

The car grumbles and shudders and Jonathan smacks the dashboard reflexively. He realizes how stupid that was a second later and pats it to make up for it.

**_Really?_**

_What if it dives off the bridge with me in it?_

As if to remind him that it _could_, the radio starts playing something that goes 'gonna end up a big ol' pile of them bones'. Jonathan changes the station. That's just too morbid.

The Alleged Car doesn't like that, apparently, because it suddenly makes a whining noise and dies. Really? They're in the middle of the Narrows and he _knows_ he filled it up this morning.

**_Fuck._**

_I think I made it mad._

**_Get out of there before it eats you!_**

He'd never thought of that. He gets out of the car and wonders if he can walk to work…no. Not here. He'll just find a pay phone and announce that he's a little late.

That goes as well as could be expected and he returns to the car, which seems to be smirking at him. Who'd have thought this crappy black car would be so…wrong?

"I called a tow truck." he tells it. "So don't complain to me."

**_If it was anything else, I'd say see a shrink._**

_But it's not._

**_Yeah. Be nice to it._**

After a minute, he reaches over and pats it. The hood flies open and nearly hits him in the face.

**_Whaa!_**

_That could have hurt._

It's smoking under there. He has no idea what he's doing and he has no intention of touching it.

"Okay. Not touching."

He'll just have to wait for the tow truck to get here, apparently.


	6. Mary Sue

Mary Sue likes the look of her new neighbor. He's cute. Most importantly, he's nerdy to the point of pathetic-ness. Maybe he can be her study buddy.

"Hi." she breathes. "I'm Mary Sue."

"That's nice."

Hm. Maybe he's never had a pretty girl talk to him before.

"I was wondering if…"

"I'm trying to pay attention."

This one will take some work.

His name is Jonathan Crane and he lives off-campus. That's a shame. Oh, well, she's never been one to turn down a challenge.

She gets her chance when they get assigned group work. He looks utterly crushed when he finds out. Poor thing, does he have any friends at all?

"So…"

"Let's just get this over with."

Huh? What is his problem? Maybe he has no social skills.

"I'm Mary Sue." she says.

"You told me."

He remembered!

"You're…um…"

"Jonathan Crane. You do the drawing, I'll do the writing."

She's always liked a guy who takes charge.

Well, it's been two weeks and he hasn't said a word to her. Maybe he's really shy. She thinks he's really shy. He probably likes her and isn't sure what to say. She'll have to get things rolling, then.

"Did you want to get together and study after class?"

"No."

"What about tomorrow?"

"Not really."

"Jonathan…" He inches away a little bit. "How are we supposed to get to know each other if we don't talk?"

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"I'm sure you're very nice, but I have a girlfriend."

Okay, fine. So they have sex and no relationship. He's cute enough for that.

"So?"

"What…no. I'm not interested. Good afternoon."

That asshole! Everyone is interested in her! How does he think she passed high school algebra?

"But…"

He's already walking very quickly down the hall. Fine. Jerk. He probably doesn't even have a girlfriend. There's no way a guy with that kind of attitude can get one.

It's been two weeks since her first rejection. She's starting to get over it when she sees that bastard in the grocery store. There's a woman with him. She's probably his sister. She'll just set a few things straight while she's here.

"Jonathan!"

"Who…ah. You again."

Oh, so now he's being polite?

"Is this your girlfriend?"

She's hoping for a shocked, 'He has a girlfriend?' That's not what she gets.

"Yes. Kitty, this is my…um…neighbor. The one I told you about."

"I see. Pleasure."

Where the hell is she from?

"Yeah, he told me about you."

"I'm sure he did. I've heard a lot about you."

There's a hint of scorn in that tone and Mary feels almost ashamed. Almost. Then she remembers this is some scrawny foreigner that probably faked a pregnancy or something. Bitch.

"That's…"

"We should be going, love."

Ugh.

Jonathan gives her a smug smirk when Kitty isn't looking. Mary shudders. There's something in that smirk that appeals to her self-preservation instincts. This Kitty can keep him. If she ends up dead in an alley, Mary won't be surprised.

"Nice seeing you."

"Always a pleasure."

Yeah. There's something wrong with this guy. She can feel it way down inside.

AN: I think he probably killed her later. It might have been an accident-toxin overdose or something-but I doubt she's still wandering around Gotham. He's a terrible grudge-holder, you know.


	7. Kiss

AN: I did try to make this all romantic and special. Nobody wanted it to go that way, so this happened. *shrugs* Personal opinion, kissing is extremely unpleasant. You're exchanging saliva and God-knows-what-else. How is that romantic?

He supposes it's not technically his first kiss. He has a vague recollection of her kissing him when he had a fever, but that could have been his imagination.

First or not, he wasn't expecting it. It just happened. One minute they were lying on the couch and the next minute they were…connected by the mouth. He doesn't remember who instigated it-probably her-and he doesn't care. Scarecrow wants him to quit thinking about it. For once, he's got a point.

Before it can go anywhere else, she untangles her fingers from his hair and sits up. He blinks, wondering if he dreamed the whole thing.

"Kitty?"

"Drapes."

What about the drapes?

**_They're open._**

_So?_

**_So she's going to close them. Now let me do the talking…_**

_Shut up, Scarecrow._

**_Oh my God, he's grown up on me!_**

There's a _swoosh _noise and the room is bathed in shadow.

"Where were we?"


	8. In Which The Alleged Car is Sneaky

Voodoo-Mutant-Child-But does it hate him, or is that a figment of his already troubled mind? -)

Lupin fan1-HE SHOULD. Although after this, he may want to name it something that shouldn't be said in public.

MidnightFedora-Or is Jonathan absolutely insane?

AN: MUAHAHAHAHA! IT RETURNS! This is like writing...what is it, sixteen?...Friday the 13th films. I should stop, but it's too much fun.

"I don't know what your problem is with this car." Kitty said, backing out of the parking lot and easing it onto the freeway. "It's just an old car. It's not like it belonged to the Boston Strangler or something."

Says who? Oh, god, it probably _did_ belong to the Boston Strangler! No wonder it hates him.

"It hates me!"

"It's a car, love. You're being ridiculous. So it broke down in the Narrows. Rotten luck, that's all."

Maybe Granny possessed it. He wouldn't put it past her.

**_If she did, burn it first and explain later. Tell Kitty it spontaneously combusted._**

_She won't believe me._

**_Cry on her, then! Distract her!_**

Really? There were better ways to do that than lowering himself to tears. He wasn't a child, after all.

"I'll drive tomorrow and you'll see. It makes a noise when I drive it. Some kind of clunking noise."

_We've got it._

**_Maybe she'll get a priest._**

_No priests. You know how I feel about the Church._

**_Sorry, Jonny. I forgot._**

"Whatever, love. If it starts spinning around or talking, I'll believe you."

Ha-ha.

It was time for her to see the monster in disguise of a car. Now she would quit mocking him. He rubbed his hands together when she wasn't looking and inserted the key into the ignition.

**_I want to put our key in her ignition, if you know what I mean._**

_What is wrong with you?_

**_What? We have a hot girlfriend, we're supposed to drool._**

_Shut up, Scarecrow. I'm trying to prove a point._

Within five minutes, The Car would start making that horrible clunking noise and shuddering every five feet.

Okay, maybe within ten minutes.

Fifteen?

Oh, come on!

"Yeah, it really hates you."

"Kitty…"

"You're imagining things. Now quit freaking out over a car. This isn't the Twilight Zone."

But The Car came from the Twilight Zone.

"I'll pick you up at one." he grouched. "Try not to get out early."

"Try not to hurt the car, love." She kissed his cheek. "See you."

He had just reached the next stoplight when it shuddered…and a clanking noise reached his ears.

**_It knows._**

It was probably laughing at him.

**_What do we do?_**

_We be very nice to it._

**_No backseat fucks, then?_**

_…No._

**_Damn. What if we parked it a little ways outside of town?_**

That didn't even deserve a response.


	9. Essay

_The powers that be…_

_Of the powers invested in the state…_

**_Let's just fail. This is boring._**

_I need to pass the class!_

**_Can't you just have sex with the teacher or something?_**

_Have sex with a fifty year-old man._

**_Never mind._**

They both shudder at the idea and Jonathan picks up his pencil again. Thanks to Scarecrow, he's lost what little concentration he had and this thing is due tomorrow afternoon. He has one more paragraph and he's at a loss for what to put.

"Jonathan, what are you…still?"

"Yes." He slumps over the paper and his glasses slide down and hit the desk. "I don't care. I'll never need this class again."

For a minute he thinks she'll offer help or encouragement. Then…

"Good luck. I have to go to work. See you later."

He pretends to be busy until he's sure she's out of earshot.

"I hope he gets impaled by that pointer of his."

**_That can be arranged._**

_I meant accidentally. You know. Karma or whatever._

They both entertain that image before Jonathan picks up his pencil one more time. He'll finish this or die trying. If it's the latter, he'll be haunting this essay-happy idiot until the end of time.


	10. Flu Season

Lupin fan1: Poor Scarecrow. It must suck to have your other half be sensible.

AN: I have a friend who reacts TERRIBLY to cold medicine. Many hours of amusement have come from watching this.

Jonathan Crane had scarcely finished his paper when the front door cracked open and a nasty cough reached his ears. He was tempted to call out an 'I told you so', but figured it might not be the best plan of action.

"Kitty?"

More coughs reached his ears and he stood up, stretched, and went to see if she needed help.

She was still capable of standing, but she looked awful. Had she looked this awful when she left for work this morning? He didn't think so.

"H-hi, Jonathan." Cough. "That bitch Jolene got me sick."

Her voice was slurred and he grimaced.

"Come on, bed."

"Couch."

Uh, no. That was not going to happen. Sick people needed to shut up and go to bed, not sit on the couch watching bad movies.

"Come on." he said again. "Either you'll cooperate or I'll get physical."

She giggled.

"You never get physical, Jonathan."

Yerg. She must have been feeling sick. Sick or not, she wasn't budging and he wanted her to go to bed.

He picked her up, grateful that she was literally an inch away from being a midget, and carried her to bed. She didn't make it easy, oh no. She rasped at him and squirmed and nearly toppled them over.

"Here! For heaven's sakes, Kitty, there's no reason to act like I'm dragging you to the doctor's office."

"You're a doctor."

"I'm working on it." he reminded her. "How long have you been sick? And don't you dare lie to me, I can tell when you do."

She grinned, just for a moment, before starting to cough. Ugh. That sounded like a chest cough, and that was usually bad.

"Erm…I dunno."

"Kitty…" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Try to focus. You're not drunk, you're sick. There is a difference."

"Cold medicine." she rasped. Great. Cold medicine always made her high as a kite, no matter how low of a dose she took. Whichever idiot it was that gave her cold medicine was going to be sorry. He considered sending her back to torture them. "Jolene was sorry for coming sick."

Oh. Jolene, was it? He hated Jolene now, with a flaming passion.

"Great." he said. "Just great."

Idiot woman. Some people were allergic to that stuff!

"Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad. Don't move. Just go to sleep or something, I'll wake you for dinner later."

"Dinner's over."

What…right.

"Supper. Sorry."

She shrugged and rolled over.

"I'm tired."

"Good."

"But kinda wired."

"Sleep anyway. Doctor's orders."

"Thought you weren't a doctor yet."

God, he just couldn't win! As he'd thought before, he _hated _Jolene with a flaming passion.

"Go to sleep, Kitty."

She flipped him off. He rolled his eyes and retreated to see if they had any soup or ramen or…anything.

Hm. They didn't. That could be problematic. She couldn't go to work, and he didn't really want her at school. It could be influenza.

"Damn."

He finally stumbled upon a very old, possibly expired ramen noddle cup. It would do. It didn't look moldy or anything.

Unfortunately, he didn't read the instructions. After two and a half minutes in the microwave, there was a bright blue flame and then…nothing. Oops.

"Jonathan?"

Shit.

"Go back to bed."

"Did you set something on fire?"

"Accidentally, yes. Go back to bed."

She laughed, but it came out sounding like a cackle. All the same, she did go back to bed. Jonathan disposed of the still-smoldering ramen cup and started looking through the cupboards for tea. That would be better than nothing.

They did have tea-of course they had tea, Kitty would commit murder if they ran out of tea-and he managed to make a halfway decent cup of chamomile.

"Thanks, love."

"Mm."

"Don't go away."

"You'll get me sick." he reminded her. "One of us has to work, remember?"

She pouted at him.

"I can work."

"You try and I'll write a doctor's note saying you've got tuberculosis." he threatened. "My handwriting's bad enough to fake it."

"When did you become such a bad boy, Jonathan?"

One of these days he really would have to study the effects of cold medicine on the mental state. This was fascinating. And amusing.

"What kind of cold medicine did she give you?"

"Daytime." she said. "The orange kind."

Dayquil, then. Okay.

"When?"

"Oh…three hours ago or so. I think. Things got fuzzy."

"Pill or liquid?"

"Pill."

Good. It would wear off soon, then, in another few hours.

"Okay. Maybe try a shower and then go back to bed. Okay?"

She looked at him, her expression bored.

"Later."

"No, now."

Had she reverted to a childlike state? God almighty, he was going to have a long chat with Jolene about handing out medicine at random.

"Uh-uh."

He wasn't about to wrestle with her.

"Okay. I am going to run up to the store. You are going to keep your mouth shut, you sound awful."

"M'kay."

"Good. Any preferences?"

She shook her head and rolled over. If he was really lucky, she would go to sleep while he was gone.

Sure enough, when Jonathan got back, Kitty had gone to sleep. Her tea was gone and she'd huddled up under the covers. Good. Maybe when she woke up she'd be a little more lucid.

He closed the bedroom door and went back to his paper to proofread it.


	11. Rebellion

Lupin fan1-I don't mind being sick. I get total control of the Nintendo.

masterdisk-Welcome aboard! Report to the Joker-he likes uncontrollable laughter.

AN: I'm sure that most Gothamites wish this was the worst thing he ever did.

"Perhaps Mr. Crane can tell us the answer?"

Jonathan doesn't even lift his head. The old man is trying to make a fool out of him, thinking he doesn't know the material. The boring, boring material that should have taken ten minutes instead of two hours.

"Picasso, Sir."

He hates art. Thank god he only has to take one class of it.

The professor goes back to his blackboard and Jonathan is left alone again. He adjusts his head on his arms and closes his eyes, only half-listening to the dull drone coming from the front of the room. He's been working the graveyard shift for two weeks-someone's on vacation-and he's _tired_. Maybe Kitty will cook tonight. She cooked last night, though, so probably not.

"Mr. Crane?"

Now what?

"Yes, Sir?"

"Sit up."

Honestly, there's two chattering girls sitting right next to him! You know what? No. His classmates are bragging about not having done their homework, he can skip out of class early. It's college, doing something slightly rebellious is sort of required. At least, that's what Kitty keeps telling him. She even got him to drink a wine cooler before he was twenty-one!

"I think I'm going to be sick."

He grabs his backpack and rushes out, hoping he looks pathetic. Once he's safely away, he pushes his glasses up his nose and smirks. This is probably the worst thing he's ever done. He likes this feeling! Maybe he'll try procrastinating next.

**_Jonny, you bad boy!_**

_Shut up, Scarecrow._

**_When you do something really bad, like cuss out a teacher, I'll be impressed. Until then, this is hilarious._**

What? He has to start small. And he won't cuss out a teacher. That's just pathetic. The troglodytes he attends class with can do that.

Well, since he's ditched, he may as well do his math homework. He can't start failing, after all. He has to keep up his scholarship.

**_You're DITCHING! Do something fun!_**

_I need to keep my GPA, Scarecrow. Remember?_

**_I would have to get the boring alter._**

_You're no picnic, either._

**_Hey! I am awesome! Be grateful!_**

_Why?_

Scarecrow launches into a rant and Jonathan shakes his head. He has to start small. These things take time, after all.

But oh, it does feel good to break the rules.


	12. Theme Song

Lupin fan1-You do that, too? I've only ditched properly one time, because I hate the substitute we were stuck with.

Decepticon-silverstreak-He does get better about breaking rules. Driving people insane is usually against the law.

Voodoo-Mutant-Child-Rules are made to be broken! But only little rules. Don't go and mug somebody or something, that's bad.

AN: Scarecrow's 'Theme Song' is Metallica's 'Sad But True'. It just fits him so well, in my humble opinion.

* * *

"Hey! I'm your life…"

_Ugh, I'm switching off._

**_Don't you touch that knob! This is my theme song!_**

_You don't have a theme song._

**_Yes I do! And this is it! If you change the channel, I'll take over and change it back. And then I'll drive. You know what happens when I drive._**

_…You bastard._

**_That would be you, technically._**

Jonathan Crane scowls but turns the volume down. Leave it to Scarecrow to have a 'theme song'. This isn't some cheesy film. Nobody has a theme song in real life.

"I'm your dream, make you real…"

And this is terrible theme song. Couldn't he have picked the Funeral March or something? Even the Psycho Strings are better than this.

**_Shut up, I'm trying to rock!_**

_Whatever, Scarecrow._

God, when will it end? Scarecrow has no taste in music, none at all.

The radio suddenly makes a whining noise and dies. Saved by the car!

**_Put it back!_**

_I didn't touch it. Take it up with the car._

**_You were right. This car is possessed by some grouchy old man._**

Jonathan pats the steering wheel. Scarecrow snarls before hitting upon a terrible idea.

**_I'll just sing the rest of it, then._**

_No._

**_HEY! I'm your life, and I no longer care!_**

God, why?


	13. First

Voodoo-Mutant-Child-You know of The Offspring! I have yet to meet anybody that knows their name!

Lupin fan1-That's only half-skipping, then. Sort of. At least it was a productive skip.

AN: This is Jonathan's (actual) first kiss, the one he only kind of remembers.

* * *

It's very hot in here. He doesn't remember it ever being this hot in the apartment. Wasn't the heater broken?

Something wet and slimy presses against his lips and he pinches them shut. Perhaps the heat has drawn out maggots or something. He isn't taking any chances. Not after that vile fizzy liquid that he swallowed before.

"Come on, love, just take the ice cube. If you won't drink the Sprite, you'll have to suck on the cube."

That was _not_ an ice cube.

"Jonathan…" The familiar voice sounds cross. He's sorry-a little-but he's not opening his mouth. "Please? For me?"

He'd love to oblige, but he _does_ have a sense of self-preservation.

"Please?"

There's a clinking noise. Good. She's given up. Maybe now he can ponder this sudden heat.

His disjointed ponderings are interrupted by a new feeling. Two very soft, very foreign objects are now pressed against his lips. He forces his eyelids open to see what's going on.

Just as he does so, the objects leave. So that was a kiss? That wasn't so terrible. He opens his mouth to say so and finds the cold, slimy object thrust against his teeth.

"I told you you'd take it eventually."

That wasn't fair! He chokes on the cube and shifts it to the side.

"Kitty…"

"I'm not wearing a nurse outfit for you." she says softly. "Go back to sleep."

What? Never mind.

"But…"

She pecks his nose and walks away. He stays still, his tongue numb and his lips tingling. After a few minutes, he starts to wonder if the whole thing happened at all.


	14. Scarecrow Learns to Drive

Lupin fan1-Haha, thanks!

Voodoo-Mutant-Child-This is true.

* * *

**_I wanna drive!_**

_Why? You can't drive._

**_But what if I need to? What if you get knocked out?_**

_We share a body, genius. If I'm knocked out, so are you._

**_…shut up._**

Before he can complain, Scarecrow's hijacked everything and jammed the keys in the ignition.

_Hey! Move over, you'll get us killed! And Kitty will murder me if you hurt the car!_

**_WHOO!_**

He'd love to close his eyes, but he can't. All he can do is watch the speedometer needle inch closer and closer to eighty. And listen to Scarecrow's horrible choice of radio. If ever he were to believe in God, now is the time.

_Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Please forgive my idiot alter, who knows not what he does. Oh, and forgive me, because I had nothing to do with this. Amen._

**_That was beautiful…crap._**

_What?_

**_The po-po._**

_The what…pull over, you idiot!_

**_Fuck that! Hang on, Jonny, I got this._**

No. No. No. Please, Jesus, no.

They swerve right and cut down an alley. For one terrible moment, Jonathan's convinced they'll get stuck-great, they'll be cut out of the car and then ticketed-but they make it. A few more turns into a sketchy neighborhood, and the police are gone.

_Give me this._

He wrenches control of the wheel and navigates out of the neighborhood.

_I can't believe you._

**_That was fun! Can I do it again?_**

_No. Now sit back and be quiet and hope Kitty doesn't find out._

THE END

* * *

AN: This is partially based on family legend. Apparently my grandmother outran the police once when they spotted her speeding. The only other witness is fairly unreliable, however, so nobody really knows for sure. Oh, and po-po is real slang for the police. Don't ask.


	15. Murder

Voodoo-Mutant-Child-_Great, you're amused by the fact that he nearly killed us both. Please don't encourage him._

Lupin fan1-_It wasn't as though he gave me any choice in the matter._

* * *

He didn't want this. He didn't think Scarecrow would do something like this. Not again. But here he stands, his hands covered in blood, looking down at a body that is technically there because he put it there.

He blinks and runs to bathroom to vomit and try to clean up, wondering what in the world happened. He remembers going in there to talk to the man-Kitty's English professor, he'd taken a shine to her-and having a bit of an argument.

**_And that's where I came in._**

_What have you done?_

**_He won't be harassing anyone else._**

_You did this because you were feeling righteous?_

**_I don't care about the others. But the only one allowed to harass our girlfriend is me, thank you very much._**

_How am I supposed to explain this?_

**_You lock the door and clean up. Make it look like a suicide. Not that anyone will care._**

_To Kitty, you idiot!_

**_Oh. Just…don't mention it._**

He'll have no choice but to mention it, but he might downplay the details.

_What exactly did you do?_

**_In my defense, he took out the switchblade first. I just…borrowed it. I gave it right back._**

_Scarecrow…_

**_Okay, okay! I slashed his throat and cut his face up a bit._**

He pukes again. Scarecrow scoffs and mutters something about him being a wuss. He didn't want this. He didn't want to have any more bodies on his hands! Granny was one thing-that was self-defense, after all.

**_Come on, help me clean things up._**

Never again. If he has to, he'll see a psychiatrist about hearing voices. But he will not be cleaning up any more bodies.

* * *

AN: _Don't look at me like that. They tell me I'm criminally insane, remember? What did you think was going to happen, he'd see the error of his_ ways?


	16. Over

AN:_ Scary has some sort of cold. I can only hope it turns out to be fatal...as you no doubt may have guessed, I will be handling the author's notes until further notice, out of the goodness of my heart._

**_Whatever, we both know it's only because she threatened to lock you in with rabid fans._**

_I'm no more thrilled about it than you are, I assure you._

Voodoo-Mutant-Child-_He's never cared before, why should he start now?_

* * *

"We're going for a walk, Mum."

Well, walk isn't the right word. Jonathan's all but dragging her out the door.

"All right!"

"Jonathan, where are we…"

"Humor me."

Where are they going? There's nowhere to go!

They're back in Georgia for Christmas-her parents threatened to descend on them without warning if they didn't come. It's cold and Kitty hates it, but they didn't have much choice. It's a small consolation that Jonathan hates it even more.

"Jonathan…"

He's tugging her across the no-man's land, towards the remains of the chapel. Why are they going there? Oh, god, he's not going to throw _her_ in there, is he?

"Jonathan, please!"

He finally lets her go, but only to push the heavy doors open. They aren't locked, and she's surprised that they haven't rotted away.

She's only been in here once, and she didn't see much of it then. She was a bit preoccupied at the time.

It's empty now, but the floor is littered with feathers. Jonathan's crossed the room and begun to circle it. She wonders if he's looking for something.

"Hasn't changed much." he says softly. "There used to be cross there." He points at the far wall. "I wonder if it's still soundproof."

"What?"

"When I was seven years old I used to beg for her to let me out. I don't think she heard me." He comes towards her and she tenses, not at all certain that he hasn't lost his mind. "She used to shove me and slam the door and stand outside, singing. I think she only stopped because she got too old to stand there for a long time." He closes the doors. Kitty puts a few more feet between them. "Are you afraid of me?"

She doesn't answer for several minutes.

"You never told me this."

"No."

"Why are we here?"

"I wanted to see if she's still here."

It strikes her that he never told her exactly what happened that night. That whole aftermath is a bit of a blur, really. She remembers him showing up late one night and telling her a horrifying secret-that he'd killed his grandmother-but after that it all blends together. She'd been too shocked that quiet Jonathan Crane had done such a thing to ask questions. And, if she was going to be honest, she hadn't really wanted to know the answers.

"What happened?"

He doesn't seem to realize she's here. He's circling the room again, occasionally stopping to brush a pile of feathers aside.

"We gave her a taste of her own medicine." he says softly. "Scarecrow and I. He got her out here and threw her in. I…I wasn't very happy with him at first. I thought it wouldn't work." But it had. Oh, god, she doesn't want to know where this story is going. "Here she is."

He bends down and brushes away a pile of feathers and broken eggshells. After a minute, he picks up a white thing. It takes her a moment to recognize it as a skull and when she does, she puts a greater distance between them.

"Put that down."

He's ignoring her again, this time in favor of examining the skull.

"It's all scraped up from their beaks." he says softly. Kitty wishes he'd drop it. If he doesn't, she's running back to the house and getting the hell out of here. She should have told someone before, she should have told her parents that Jonathan Crane had confessed to murder and was hearing voices…

"Jonathan, please." she whispers. "Please, you're scaring me…"

He sets the skull down with what must be the rest of the skeleton. She still has time to run, if she does it now she might be able to outrun him…

"She's dead." he says. "She's not going to come back."

"No."

"I'll meet you back at the house."

"What?"

"I'll meet you."

She takes the opening to leave.

She tells her parents that Jonathan's having an attack of nostalgia-his grandmother passed not too long ago, poor thing-and that he wanted to take one last look at his childhood home. The lies come so easy, even now. Then again, for all she knows, that really is what he's doing. Assuming that he's not busy setting it on fire.

She's lying in her old room, listening for the sound of the front door. What she hears instead is a low tapping on her window.

"It's open." He knows that, she never did get in the habit of locking it. "My parents know you're here, you don't have to sneak in."

"I was feeling nostalgic."

He's shivering and she allows herself an eye-roll before she drops a blanket over his shoulders.

"Where were you?"

"Thought I'd take one last look at the old place." Oh, she really wasn't lying to her parents? That's reassuring. "Make sure there wasn't anything we can sell on eBay."

"Don't joke."

"I was serious."

This bed is still too small for two people. Her father put them in separate rooms-still trying to deny that she was grown up, probably-but he hasn't actually slept in there. Within five minutes he's usually in her room. He _says_ it's because he's used to the surroundings. She doesn't believe him for a minute.

"What was that about? Earlier?"

"You didn't know her like I knew her." he says quietly. "I'm not superstitious, Kitty, but Granny…if anyone could come back from the dead, it would be her."

She shakes her head and rolls over to face him.

"That's not possible."

"I know."

"Just go to sleep. She's not going to come back."

He stretches out, taking way too much of the bed. Fine. His complaints about being used as a pillow are now null and void.

"What are you doing?"

"You took my bed." She yawns. Her hands are cold and she slides them up his shirt.

"Hey!"

"I'm cold."

"I'm aware, thank you very much!"

He'll live.

"Night Jonathan."

"Kitty…"

"I said good night."

The conversation is over.


	17. Closure

AN: _I would love to say I have faith in your intelligence, but I really don't. For the mentally challenged of you, this is related to yesterday's...bit._

Voodoo-Mutant-Child-**_A fellow psycho! Oh, I love meeting other people, but Jonny never lets me out. Seems to think I'll break things. :(_**

* * *

Jonathan stands in the foyer of the old mansion. If he listens closely, he can hear the echoes of years past. Most of them are screams of, 'Granny, please!'

He shakes his head and looks at the staircase, half-expecting the old crone to be standing there. She isn't-why should she be, her bones are outside where he left them-and he starts towards the stairs.

The house is dark and crumbling. In another few years, time will have swallowed it. The sooner that happens, the happier he will be.

Ah, this was his old bedroom. It's just as bare as it always was-he took everything he owned with him when he left.

A black widow has made a home in the windowsill and he leaves the room. It's freezing in here. It doesn't matter now-he got what he wanted.

He doesn't lock the door, but he does check on Granny's bones one last time. Just to be sure.

She won't come back.


	18. Grades

AN: _Laugh all you want, children, but do remember that I have no patience for idiots and will gas you as punishment for your stupidity. The brighter you are, the safer you are. Mostly._

* * *

"A B-minus! That idiot gave me a B minus! Is he trying to ruin my GPA?"

"A B-minus…it's an algebra test! Quit complaining. Plenty of people out there would love to have it."

Jonathan Crane gives the offending test a dark look.

"B-minus. I knew I should have studied more."

Kitty Richardson loves him, she really does. But every so often she wants to kill him. This is one of those times.

"One B minus is not going to ravage your GPA." God. "I promise."

"A B-minus! I've never gotten a B-minus in my life!"

The urge to strangle him is steadily growing. While it's true that she seldom gets lower than a B, it isn't the end of the world when it happens.

"Jonathan, love…"

"A B-minus!"

This is it. He can panic over his test by himself, she has a paper to write.

"Yes. A B-minus."

She leaves him in the kitchen.


End file.
